Well, she had me there.“True. I didn’t have to go to the trouble. I could have let you be killed. My brother suggested it, you know. A provocation by a De Luca. A rival family making a play on Luciano territory. A hit on the perpetrator would be justified.”
She flushed, finally, a sign I was getting to her. It was true, as well. Vincenzo’s first reaction had been to send a warning to Giacomo, and I was the one who had stayed his hand. With Suna at his side, he was warier than ever of challenges to the family’s safety. I’d been the one to defend Chiara. I’d been the one to insist I handle it personally.
I’d saved her life, and she had no idea.
“If so, why am I here and not six feet under?”
“Because I will it.” My voice boomed out, crossing the space between us in an instant and stilling her. “Don’t you wonder why your brother brought you here again? Don’t you wonder why we ended up playing tonight… because I made it happen. Everything that happens to you from here on out is because of me. Every breath you take is because of me.” The words rushed from me like bubbles escaping a cork. I couldn’t keep them inside. Chiara had no idea how hard I’d fought for her.
“Because you prefer to take your pound of flesh in person, right? Are you trying to tell me I should be grateful?” Her astounded, scathing tone bounced off the walls.
I fought the urge to stand and crush her against the windows behind her. I fought the need to kiss her hard enough to leave a mark. I fought the desire to press my fingertips into every inch of her skin so everyone would know she was mine. Mine to punish. Mine to protect. Mine to keep.
“Maybe you should be grateful. You’re so full of righteous anger, and you have no idea what your brother wants you to take from me yet. You – the thief – indignant at my winning you. You’re a hypocrite,” I snapped.
“And you’re not? You, the great and powerful Antonio Luciano, descending from his throne of bones to pass judgment on me for how I’ve had to survive. You have no idea what I’ve had to do, so you don’t get to judge me.”
Her voice whipped me like a sharp lash. I fought against demanding to know what terrible things she spoke of so I could seek vengeance on her behalf. I was completely fucked up over this woman.
But she wasn’t finished. “You don’t get to decide what happens to me. I make my own decisions. I choose.”
Her words rang out, but they sounded defeated and hollow. It hurt something inside me, in the cold, barren place I used to keep a heart, to hear her heartbroken voice. It made me desolate and livid at the same time.
“We both know that isn’t true, don’t we?” I asked quietly, twisting the knife while I had the chance. I was beginning to think I’d caught a tiger by the tail, and my plans of vengeance would crumble away before they’d even begun.
Tears shone in her stunning eyes. She let out an eerie half cry, half laugh. Is that all it would take? Maybe she’d lived a half-life since we’d met like I had. Maybe that night had wrecked her, as it had wrecked me. Now, finally reunited, she could admit what I’d said that night was true. This connection wasn’t ordinary, and running from it was futile.
Instead, finding that steel spine, she straightened and came toward me. I stiffened, heat running through my body at the look in her eyes, at her proximity. She reached me and slowly sank to her knees. Her eyes looked huge and endless as she stared up at me, her hands pushing my knees apart. My dick leaped to attention, and the blood in my veins roared with want.
“You want me to be grateful? How about this?” She moved her hands to the bulge in my pants.
I was getting hard, yet there was an uneasy note to it. I wanted Chiara on her knees before me, begging for forgiveness, but not like this. This felt like losing.
She palmed my aching length. My body had no such qualms about her act of apology. She rubbed me up and down, and then her fingers went for my zipper. I watched her, unmoving, curious where she was going with this little act.
“Should I thank you on my knees for saving my life? Should I beg you for forgiveness while I suck you off? Is this why you brought me here?” Her small hand delved into my pants and closed around me.
Fuck, it felt good, but the wrongness of the tears shining in her eyes killed my want.“Start with an apology, and we’ll see,” I said curtly, grabbing her hand and stopping her.
She stared at me. A thousand emotions chased across her face.
“If that’s too hard, then tell me why. Why did you do it?” I needed to know. Stealing from any rival family was dangerous as hell and not something anyone with a healthy desire to live would do. “You could have come clean. I wouldn’t have hurt you. Why did you do it?”
She froze, her eyes trapped by mine. “Why do we do any of the shit we do? To live another day.”
My cold, dead heart clenched hard at the look of world-weary sadness in her eyes at that moment. “Get up, now,” I said flatly, pulling away from her.
I strode to the drinks cart in the corner, poured myself a neat whiskey, and knocked it back. This woman was going to drive me to drink. “Your room is at the bottom of the hall. Go now, before I change my mind,” I warned her and didn’t turn back to see her hurrying away.
This was a mistake. I saw it already. I thought I was in control, bringing Chiara into my life, taking out my disappointment on her, but I was wrong. She was still in control. I wanted to burn down her life to discover what had scared her. I wanted to kill Giacomo for threatening her. I wanted to open the doors of her cage, only to put her in one of my own. My obsession with her wasn’t sated by taking her, it was stoked by her nearness. I faced full-blown madness when I was near her, and worse still, my heart had already decided she wouldn’t be leaving. Not by Friday or ever.
Chiara De Luca was mine, and God better have mercy on the person who tried to take her from me.
CHAPTER6
Chiara
Last night hadn’t gone exactly as I’d imagined. All night I’d lain in bed, awake and restless, the moment I’d sank to my knees before Antonio replaying in my head. I remembered the sensation of him in my hand and the weight of his arousal. I remembered the smell of his cologne and something muskier and distinctly male.